And she did not know what he meant until six months had passed; but then she knew. Seeing that she did not know what he meant, her father thanked Heaven that Heaven had given him a daughter who was unlike other daughters. He prayed that she might never become like other daughters. He thought that it would be good for his daughter to remain without experience of those overwhelming passions which make up the life of a woman and a man. Phyllis went out a good deal during the week, and everywhere she found herself looked at with interest; sometimes she found herself being examined through a _pince-nez_ as if she were a curious specimen, and a woman or two smiled derisively at her. She did not know what was meant by their curiosity--their derision--until one day an old lady named Mrs. Haddon went up to her and kissed her, saying: “I made up my mind that I would kiss you, my dear, the first chance I had. God bless you, my child! You have given your testimony as a woman should, in these days of scoffing at the truth.” “Testimony?” said Phyllis, quite puzzled. Had not her father felt a thrill of gratitude on reflecting that she had none of the qualities of the prig about her? “Testimony?” “You have testified to the truth, Miss Ayrton, and you shall have your reward. You have shown that the truth is more to you than--than love--the love of man--all that women hold sweet in life. You are right Miss Ayrton; and all true women must love and respect you.” Phyllis turned a very brilliant color, and kept her eyes fixed on the parquet pattern of the floor. The dear old lady said a good deal more to her, all in praise of her act of having given Mr. Holland his _conge_ on account of his having written that shockingly unorthodox book.